


Prey to Sentiment

by HoodEx



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dick & Jason & Tim are like their own lil pod, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake is Red Robin, mermaid au, merman dick grayson, merman jason todd, merman tim drake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25067989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoodEx/pseuds/HoodEx
Summary: “You’ll have to come down here,” Father said. “They won’t climb up there to meet you.”Damian pushed off the wall with his shoulder and came down to the lower platform. “Who on earth are you referring to?” His arm nearly brushed his father's when they finally stood next to each other. “Surely you don’t mean to introduce me to that trident wielding clownfish man.”For a second it looked like his father was struggling between a glare and a small grin. Damian decided it must be a look of disapproval. People were rarely amused by him.“No, not Aquaman,” Father said. Oh, of course. That was the clownfish man’s name. “They're somewhat related to him. You’ve met Mer people before, haven’t you?”Damian had, in fact, never met a Mer person, let alone multiple of them at the same time.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 75
Kudos: 341





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Batbro Ages:
> 
> Dick: 20  
> Jason: 17  
> Tim: 13  
> Damian: 10

The sound of music was the first thing Damian noticed when the passage to the batcave opened. It was an upbeat tune that seemed to pound through the rock and limestone interior of the place. It was so jarringly loud compared to the rest of the manor that he found himself tuning into the lyrics without consciously choosing to. To his confusion, it seemed to be a song about a woman named Rio who enjoyed dancing on the sand. 

Damian wanted to plug his ears with cotton to drown out the offending sound, but more than anything, he wanted to know _who_ was blasting music in the cave. Surely his father did not listen to such garbage, nor did he allow it to play while he was working. Within the week Damian had gotten to observe his father, he knew that the man was nearly always silent. Bruce Wayne ate in silence, read in silence, exercised in silence, and patrolled in silence. It only made sense that his workspace would retain his preference for silence as well. 

So no, it would be completely out of character for his father to play music in the batcave, which meant that someone else had been down here earlier. Judging by the sudden tenseness in his father’s shoulders, Damian could only guess that the culprit was still lurking around. 

The only people Damian could imagine would be down here would be his father’s caped associates. That insufferable alien called Superman or possibly the blabbermouth speedster. Unless… his father was testing him and was planning to have him attacked as some kind of training exercise. Even though it was unlikely, Damian kept his eyes peeled for any sense of danger.

“There are some people I want to introduce you to,” Father said. He began to descend down the staircase, his feet making no sound. Damian followed suit and resisted the temptation to cross his arms over his chest. If there was someone threat worthy down here, he’d rather his hands be free to grab the knife tucked in his pants. He did allow a small scrunch of his nose since there was an unpleasant earthy smell in the cave mixed with a sharp saltiness that Damian couldn’t place. 

He scanned beyond his view of his father’s backside and noticed that there was something different about the lowest level of the batcave. Typically, that was the section of the cave where his father kept his jet skis, ski boat, and the submarine. When Damian saw the cave for the first time a week ago, he had briefly looked down and seen that there was just enough seawater inside the cave to keep the vessels afloat. There had also been a large door at the entrance of the lower level that blocked off more ocean water from coming in, though it was obviously more of a device to keep people from entering the cave. The door had been locked tight before, but now it was completely wide open, allowing ocean water to slosh gently against the lower walls of the cave. The saltiness he had detected moments ago made sense now. 

“Are you planning on going fishing?” Damian asked. He ended up crossing his arms anyways, hip cocked toward the support of the ridged wall. His father continued heading towards the lower level platform. The platform was only a few feet higher than the top surface of the water, making it easy enough to hop onto the boats. His father made no move to board any of the vessels, rather, he stopped at the edge of the platform and turned to meet Damian’s eyes. 

“You’ll have to come down here,” Father said. “They won’t climb up there to meet you.” 

Damian pushed off the wall with his shoulder and came down to the lower platform. “Who on earth are you referring to?” His arm nearly brushed his father's when they finally stood next to each other. “Surely you don’t mean to introduce me to that trident wielding clownfish man.” 

For a second it looked like his father was struggling between a glare and a small grin. Damian decided it must be a look of disapproval. People were rarely amused by him. 

“No, not Aquaman,” Father said. Oh, of course. That was the clownfish man’s name. “They're somewhat related to him. You’ve met Mer people before, haven’t you?” 

Damian had, in fact, never met a Mer person, let alone multiple of them at the same time. He’d certainly seen them when he was with the League of Assassins. Sometimes he would see them darting through the waves of the ocean, but he mainly saw them when his grandfather brought them in as prisoners. 

Regardless, they were beautiful creatures, even though they rarely showed themselves above water. There were laws in place that kept Mers from being hunted like a typical sea animal, but it hadn’t always been that way. Damian supposed that was why the people of the sea were hesitant to make regular appearances outside of their habitat. 

“Not officially,” Damian said after a few moments of silence. His eyes narrowed into slits. “I’m about to, aren’t I?” He instantly took a few steps back away from the ledge. His tongue curled, ready to reprimand his father for allowing Mers into the cave. Before he had the chance to do so, his father held up a hand. 

“You don’t have to be scared of them. I’ve known each of them for a long time now and they know who I am.” 

That only made Damian tense even further to the point where he was practically a replica of a dog with its hackles raised. He couldn’t believe his father had revealed his identity to others. Who were these people that had his father’s trust? Why were they privy to such a private part of his father’s life before Damian himself was? Damian technically knew the reason for the last question, and he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous that his father’s affection for the interlopers was likely stronger than his affection for his own son. 

His father’s blue eyes watched him with calculated precision and Damian quickly schooled his features. He’d rather have his father think he was nervous instead of pinpoint his insecurity. 

“I know things between us have been rough this past week, but try to be civil with them.” _They mean a lot to me_ went unsaid. Damian rolled his eyes before dragging his feet back to his father’s side. He gave a stiff nod. 

His father reached up towards the comm in his ear, which was interesting. That meant the Mers had a means of communicating with him in the water and vice versa. While Damian was certainly wary of the situation, he had to admit he was a little curious about his father’s “associates.” 

“Tim,” his father said into the comm. There was a small pause where this so-called Tim must have responded. “I have Damian with me. You can come inside now. Tell Jason he can’t have any of Alfred’s shrimp for a week unless he disables the music loop.” Then, muttered through clenched teeth as if pained to admit it, he said, “It’s been driving me crazy all morning.”

“Tt.” Damian had been ignoring the music still pounding through the cave up until that point. There had been another terrible song playing for the past three minutes. It went something like, “I’m having your baby. It’s none of your business.” It hit a little too close to home for Damian’s liking, and by the way his father was openly scowling, he figured he felt the same. However, it didn’t become an issue because the music abruptly came to a stop. The Jason character must have decided the butler’s food was worth far more than an annoyed Batman. 

There wasn’t much indication that the Mers had entered the cave other than the water itself taking on a more rippled effect. Seconds later, the water started sloshing more harshly against the walls and platform. Damian lifted his foot just in time to miss a wave of water from soaking his shoe. By the time he dodged a few more wayward splashes, hair and skin were beginning to emerge from the murky depths. 

Two dark-haired males then rose up until their arms and chests were exposed to the air, water droplets trickling down their skin. The male with the larger and more muscled torso looked to be older than the slimmer, pale male. Both of their eyes were blue and rid of any irritation that a normal human’s eyes would experience when exposed to seawater. Their hands also had webbing between each finger, though the small white tissue scars covering them suggested that the webbing was not entirely durable. While interesting, Damian was more excited to see the Mer’s tails, but so far neither of them had moved far enough out of the water to show a glimpse of them. 

His attention was drawn towards the teardrop-shaped obsidian stones that were fastened to each of the Mer’s throats by short silver chains. He wondered if they were gifts from his father since the necklaces did not look like the kind of colorful jewelry Mers were known to wear. 

During the time Damian had taken to carefully observe the two strangers in the water, he realized they were doing the same to him. The more intimidating Mer drifted closer until he was leaning his arms against the side of the platform, making Damian take a few steps back. His eyes seemed to be drawn to the knife that Damian had concealed in his pants. How the Mer had detected it, Damian had no idea, but it instantly made him feel more guarded. 

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, and normally Damian would have shrugged it off, but somehow it made it easier to look at the Mers without showing his unease over the situation. 

His father looked at the larger male. “Damian, this is Jason Todd.” This was said with a pointed glare at the Mer, and the Mer instantly sported a wolfish grin that displayed his sharp teeth.

Father then motioned to the smaller male. “This is Tim Drake.” Tim gave a hesitant wave, his webbed hand stretching out to full capacity. Father sighed. “Where’s Dick?” 

Damian raised a brow, unsure of what that was supposed to mean. 

“He got sidetracked,” Drake said, swimming up beside Todd. “A kid from a passing pod snagged his tail between two rocks and broke a few scales. Dick said he was going to show the pod where the Mer-medic was. He should be here any second.” 

From what Damian remembered, a pod was the Mer people’s equivalent to a family unit. They mostly traveled while children in the pod were young before becoming more stationary in one area. From what he could make of their ages, Damian assumed Todd and Drake’s pods must be close by. If that was the case then did their pods also know the identity of Batman? Did they also come into the cave and chat with his father? Once again, Damian couldn’t help but feel like a complete outsider in the situation. 

His father started talking to the comm in his ear, apparently demanding to know where the absent Mer was located. Damian ignored him in favor of focusing on the Mers present. Arms crossed, he stepped forward to the point of nearly stepping on Todd’s fingers. 

“My name is Damian Wayne,” he said, chin tipping upwards. “I demand to know your relationship with my father.” 

Todd and Drake shared a look with each other. 

“You _demand_ to know?” Todd asked, Gotham accent taking Damian by surprise. He gripped the side of the platform harder and pulled his torso further out of the water, intentionally leaning into Damian’s space. “How about I demand you rephrase your question?” Todd didn’t even blink as a water droplet from his hair trickled into his eye. 

“There was nothing wrong with the phrasing of my question, bottom dweller,” Damian said, using a term he had heard his grandfather use when referring to Mers. 

Jason’s tail, a mixture of black and red, appeared for a split second before coming back down to the water with a loud smack. Water sprayed in multiple directions and a large portion of it drenched Damian’s jeans and shoes. Outraged, Damian stepped on the heel of his right shoe to loosen it. Then, with well practiced aim, he flung the shoe straight into Todd’s smug looking face. Todd’s head snapped back on impact. His arms gave out beneath him, making him sink back into the water. Drake dodged to the side to avoid Todd’s flailing.

Damian heard Drake and his father shout at the same time.

“What the hell!”

“Damian!” 

Suddenly, a wet hand shot out of the water and snagged one of Damian’s ankles in a bone crushing grip. He was yanked so hard that he lost his balance and fell on his backside with a startled gasp.

“Unhand me!” he yelled while trying to scramble for purchase on the wet floor. It was no use. He felt another tight squeeze around his ankle, and before he knew it, he was dragged into the disgusting water.

Saltwater immediately stung his eyes. He squeezed them shut and blindly reached towards his ankle to try and dig his nails into Todd’s hands, but the water slowed his momentum. Even kicking became difficult against the water’s resistance. He could feel his body being dragged back and forth through the water, his hair ghosting over his face every other second. Lungs burning, Damian tried to use his hands to propel his torso to the surface of the water, only to have Todd give a harsh tug downwards, keeping him from reclaiming oxygen. 

A second passed where Damian genuinely thought his father was going to let this psychotic Mer drown him. A heavy feeling of betrayal fell over him and he tried even harder to kick Todd in the face. Clearly, no one was going to save him. He had to save himself. That’s the way it had to be. Just like it always had been with the League of Assassins. 

Just as he was about to try reaching for his knife, a high pitched sound vibrated through the water. It sent shivers down Damian’s spine, and for a moment, he thought there was a whale with them in the water. A sound like that was far too similar to the whale songs Damian had seen videos of. But then the biting grip of Jason’s hands disappeared from his ankles. A different set of webbed hands grabbed his wrist, propelling him towards the surface. 

Damian reflexively sucked in a large breath as soon as his face was out of the water. He felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He tried to open his eyes and immediately shut them again after feeling the sharp sting of salt in them. 

Whoever pulled him out of the water had enough sense to keep an arm around his waist. Damian half-heartedly dog paddled back towards the edge of the platform with the arm’s support. Another set of hands, his father’s hands, grabbed him under the armpits and scooped him out onto the platform. 

Damian gasped wetly and dragged himself as far from the water as he could with the dead weight of his wet clothes holding him back. He noticed his father’s presence disappear from his side, only to be swapped with another person, supposedly the person who saved him. Vaguely, Damian could hear his father yelling in the distance. It was hard to make out the words with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. 

The webbed hand returned to his back and gave it a few hard taps to help dispel any water Damian accidentally swallowed. “Go get him a towel and some tap water. He needs to flush out his eyes.” The voice was unfamiliar. There was no doubt that this had to be the other Mer, Dick. 

“Are you sure he doesn’t need some milk?” Drake asked from somewhere above them. And what? How was Drake possibly above them? He wouldn’t be able to breathe nor would he be able to walk with his tail. He tried to pry his eyes open to look, only to close them with a hiss after feeling how sensitive they were. Dick used his hand to slick Damian’s hair away from his face so more saltwater wouldn’t drip down into it. 

“Oh krill,” Dick said, sounding exasperated and amused at the same time. “How long have you been waiting to use that reference?” 

A bark of laughter echoed in the cave. “Way too long.” 

“Should’ve waited longer!” Todd shouted during a pause in his and father’s argument. 

“Jason,” Dick warned in barely concealed anger. “Shut it.” 

Todd’s loud scoff startled the bats. Damian heard them scatter up above, their flapping wings getting farther away. 

“Sure, okay. He insults me and hits me in the face with his steel-toed shoe, and I’m somehow in the wrong for showing him that actions have consequences?”

“Don’t even try to make it seem like that was a teachable moment. He’s just a kid—”

“Don’t treat me as if I’m some imbecile that needs to be handled with kid gloves,” Damian spat, rolling away from Dick’s gentle hand and sitting up on his own. “I’m capable of taking care of myself! I was just about to gut Todd with my knife when you stepped in unnecessarily.” Damian motioned in the direction of Todd’s voice. “I’d kill him right now if I was able to see properly.” 

Damian felt his father’s hand close around his bicep. His first instinct was to knock the hand away, angry that people kept grabbing and touching him. First, it had been Todd’s biting grip on his ankle. Then, Dick’s supportive arm around his waist. Now, his father’s tense fingers on his arm.

He scowled. Their touch made him feel weak and vulnerable, and he was neither of those two things. No, Damian Wayne was no one’s victim. No one’s damsel in distress. He was too good for that. The blood running through his veins was proof of that. 

“That had better be a joke,” Father said lowly. “I told you when you came here that we don’t kill. Ever.” The cold tone of his voice made Damian want to shrink and curl back up on the floor. Instead, stubborn as ever, he crossed his arms and turned his head in the other direction.

“I have the right to defend myself if he attacks me! If defending myself leads to his death then that hotheaded flounder was asking for it!”

Todd made a high pitched shrieking sound similar to the one Damian had heard in the water. Damian jumped slightly when Dick, who was still sitting right beside him, answered back with a mixture of shrieks and clicks of his own. It sent goosebumps down Damian’s arms. The shrieks didn’t sound as soft or musical out of the water as they had in the water. They were quick, biting, and fueled by anger. 

“Ooh, you made mom mad,” Drake snickered, his voice sounding much closer than it was before. 

Dick and Todd both clicked in the back of their throats simultaneously, which Damian could only assume was some variation of, “Shut up!” 

Damian wondered if his father understood the Mer’s heated conversation or if his silence was an indication that he was just as lost as Damian was. As far as Damian knew, translating the Mer language did not come easy. Replicating it was even harder, if not impossible due to the different frequencies that could not be heard or replicated by the human body. 

“That’s enough!” Father said after what felt like an eternity of nonstop vocalizations, causing the two Mers to trail off into silence. Damian could have sworn he heard one of them hiss at one point. “You two need to cool off. Jason, get upstairs. Go help Alfred with dinner.” He paused for a second and then, most likely addressing Dick, said, “You’re drying up like a prune. Go soak for a few minutes.” 

There was some mumbling and what sounded like feet pounding up the platform that connected to the top level of the cave. Damian internally cursed at the salt that was still keeping him from opening his eyes. He was desperate to make sense of how it was possible for the Mers to be walking around the cave. All of them except Dick, apparently. 

“You and Tim got the kid?” Dick asked.

Damian immediately scowled and clenched his fists. That was the second time he’d been called “kid.” Kids were not equals, and worse, they were not capable of much. Damian was the opposite. He would show both his father and these Mers that no one was more capable than him. Then they would realize their mistake in referring to him in such a demeaning way.

“I got the water and towel right here,” Drake chimed in somewhere to Damian’s immediate left. 

Dick squeaked twice, short and low. 

“Huh?” Drake said. “Quit speaking in dialect.”

“Ugh. Forget it.”

Dick’s scales were rough and heavy sounding as they dragged across the floor. Damian wondered if it hurt or if the scales were tough enough to take some damage. His curiosity died as soon as he heard a large splash from behind him. He turned his attention to the remaining Mer instead. 

“What are you waiting for, Drake? Hand over the water immediately!” 

Damian could only imagine the look of bewilderment on the Mer’s face as Drake muttered, “Drake? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian ruffles some feathers during dinner. He also finally makes some connections about who the Mers are, why Dick doesn't have legs, and other details about Mer culture.

Damian glared at Pennyworth’s back as the butler made his way to the kitchen. Why the butler had refrained from telling him that Todd’s usual spot at the dining room table happened to be directly across from Damian’s preferred seat was beyond his understanding. Clearly, the butler was not on his side. Why else would he shame him in such a way by having him so close to the Mer that had embarrassed him in front of his father?

Even though Damian was not looking directly at the Mer, he could feel Todd’s heated gaze drilling into the side of his face. The staring was nearly as obnoxious as the sharp sound Todd’s teeth made when he bit into the cod and shrimp Pennyworth had prepared for dinner. It easily drowned out the sounds of clinking plates and silverware.

It was something Damian would have snapped at Todd for had his thoughts not been occupied by the two Mer’s state of dress, or lack thereof in this case. Todd’s attire consisted of nothing but a pair of black athletic shorts, and even the shorts did not cover much, being mid-thigh in length. Drake’s black leggings only offered slightly more coverage.

Their lack of clothing did not make Damian uncomfortable per say, he was simply not used to seeing casual wear in this setting. It made the Mers look oddly out of place in such a house of grandeur, especially when compared to how his father and Pennyworth dressed.

Damian had no doubt Dick would have worn something similar to the two Mers had he followed them upstairs. To Damian’s confusion, the Mer had never resurfaced after sliding back into the water to soak his scales. It was not something Damian thought to question until now. He’d been too busy marveling over the fact that Todd and Drake’s tails had been replaced by human legs as soon as they withdrew from the water, something his father had promised to explain to him after dinner.

He had his own theories on the matter, of course. Having grown up around a Lazarus Pit opened his mind to ideas that normal people would think to be out of the realm of possibility. He was inclined to believe that magic was involved in some way, and if not magic, then he thought it was possible that Todd and Drake were a different “breed” of Mer that could shift naturally between two physical states. If that were the case, it would make sense as to why Dick had apparently still had his tail when he had gotten out of the water. It was possible that he was not the same kind of shapeshifter Mer that Todd and Drake were. 

For all Damian knew, Todd and Drake could have been from the same pod. Damian would not have assumed as much based on physical appearance alone. The two Mers did not share any similar features other than the color of their hair and eyes, but that didn’t rule out the possibility of them being cousins or distantly related. 

“So, Damian,” Drake said suddenly, breaking up the awkward silence that had settled over the table ever since the food had been passed out. Damian turned his attention to the smaller Mer, surprised to be addressed by him of all people. Ever since Dick had disappeared, Drake had acted far more reserved and did not offer any jokes as he had when Damian had been dragged out of the water. Damian wondered if this was his usual personality or if Drake was simply more confident when he was in Dick’s presence. “You’ve been in Gotham for a week, right? How are you liking it so far?”

Damian would have scoffed if he wasn’t busy chewing a mouthful of rice. He waited until he swallowed before saying, “You’re foolish to assume I’ve been allowed to see anything beyond these walls.” 

He looked pointedly at his father since he was the one responsible for such a decision. Damian had been informed on his first day in Gotham that he was not allowed specific privileges until his father felt as though he could trust him. 

_I still don’t know much about you, Damian_ his father had said after bringing Damian to the bedroom he’d be staying in. _You’ll get your sword, a computer, and the opportunity to go where you want when I decide it’s safe_. 

His father returned Damian’s steely look from where he sat at the head of the table but said nothing about the accusation. His father simply reached for another piece of shrimp and bit into it harshly, quickly using a napkin to dab at the juices gathered at the corners of his mouth. There was something in the silent rage of the action that reminded Damian of his first day at the manor. 

There had been a lot of harsh words said on his part. Demanding his father to fight him. Yelling at the butler. Throwing his dinner on the floor and raging about how disgusting it was. Screaming about a multitude of other things that made his father’s face turn red. 

Damian pressed his tongue against his teeth and silently seethed as he continued to remember the harsh words his father had said to him then. 

_You dishonor your sensei with this loss of composure! Your rage is born of fear and is unbefitting in a student of the martial arts!_

Damian gripped the end of the white tablecloth that was dangling above his legs and rubbed the thick fabric between his fingers. The rough texture gave him something to focus on other than the mixture of shame and anger he felt remembering those words. 

His mother abandoning him in a new place with an unfamiliar culture had contributed towards his behavior that night. The realization that his behavior had been unfitting of the trained warrior he was—and was trying to prove himself to be—had extinguished the hostile rage inside of him. Still, he could not help but feel bitter about his situation now. 

Damian had been raised by the League of Assassins, and he was used to getting what he wanted whenever he wanted it. Being denied the food he wanted, the personal belongings he wanted, and the living situation he wanted was not something he was used to. It had infuriated him then and it still infuriated him now, especially since he was being forced to eat the Mer’s cuisine preference. The rice was tolerable, but the seafood, especially the smell of it, was not to his taste. 

“That’s not true,” Todd said while sucking remnants of shrimp from his fingers. There was no mistaking his smirk as he said, “You got to see a pretty great view of the ocean.”

Damian barely heard his father’s sharp reprimand towards the Mer. His harsh breathing was loud in his ears, and without thinking about it, his hand moved towards the concealed knife in his pants. He stopped just before reaching into his pocket, frowning as he realized that he had left the knife in his room along with his wet clothes. Damian dug his nails into his pants and internally screamed. Of all the times—

“Okay, _okay_!” Todd yelled suddenly, causing Damian to refocus on the tense conversation his father was having with the Mer. “Krill, I was just _joking_.” 

“Time and place, Jay. Time and place,” Father stressed with a glare. “You need to apologize for what you said.”

Jason sputtered and looked at Damian in horror, the very idea of saying sorry most likely rankling him. Damian’s anger towards his father dissipated and was quickly replaced by a feeling of pleased satisfaction. His father was taking his side and it felt _good_. 

Perhaps the longer Damian stayed here, the more his father would come to favor him over the Mers, as he should. Damian offered far more in skills and intelligence than anyone else did, including the Mers.

“Technically, he never even apologized for actually _doing_ it,” Drake said. 

Todd bared his sharp teeth at Drake, which instantly made Drake divert his eyes and bow his head. It was a submissive reflex if Damian ever saw one. He wondered if there was a strict social hierarchy in Mer pods, and if there was, what quality was the hierarchy built on? Dominance, status, skills, size, or even age? 

He would have to pay closer attention to the Mer’s interactions to try and determine the ins and outs of their social structure. First, he would have to figure out how big their pods were and if Dick, Todd, and Drake were part of the same pod or not. Based on what he’d experienced so far, he would assume Dick was the most dominant. Then again, Dick and Todd had been fighting in the cave, neither of them acting submissively towards the other. 

Damian would study their interactions more during his stay. Right now, he was far more interested in making Todd grovel. 

“You heard him,” Damian said, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug grin. “Apologize.” 

Damian was unsure whether it was his expression or his demand that finally made Todd snap. All he knew was that one second Todd was sitting at the table, and the next, he was marching towards the door with his fists clenched at his sides. 

“Bite me!” Todd spat just before disappearing into the other room. Clicks and trills followed in his wake. The inhuman noises echoed through the halls, sending goosebumps down Damian’s arms. Damian gaped at the empty space Todd had filled, appalled at being spoken to in such a way. 

“Father! Did you hear what he just said? I demand reparations for his behavior!” 

“Reparations?” Drake muttered with a bewildered look. “What kind of English lessons are they teaching you back home?” 

The loud sigh his father let out while rubbing his hands over his face was enough to keep Damian from snapping back at Drake, even though it practically made his skin itch to let his insult go. Father’s face was pink by the time he finally placed his hands back on the table. He looked at Drake. 

“Take yours and Jason’s plates to the kitchen, please.” 

Drake’s face twisted in annoyance. “Why do _I_ have to clean _his_ —” 

“Tim,” Father snapped, a warning in his tone. “Clean them off for Alfred and then go back downstairs.” Softer this time, he added, “Dick will want to spend some time with you before we go out tonight.” 

The idea of spending time with the other Mer seemed to improve Drake’s mood if the way his eyes lit up in excitement was any indication. Damian ignored him. He was far more interested by his father’s comment about taking the Mers out with him. He was no idiot. He knew what the implication there was, which only confused him about his earlier assumption regarding Dick’s lack of human legs. 

“Oh yeah!” Drake jumped up from his chair and quickly stacked his plate on top of Todd’s. He used his other webless hand to grab the rims of his and Todd’s glasses between his fingers. “We were gonna watch the next episode of Avatar!” 

Father’s smile was barely visible as he said, “Wouldn’t want to miss that.”

“Heck no. I gotta find where Jay stomped off to because Dick won’t play it without him.” Drake hurried around the table, his hair bouncing from how quickly he was walking. He darted out of the room chanting, “Pod night! Pod night! Pod night!” 

“Tt,” Damian said, attracting his father’s attention. “What is pod night?”

Father stood from his seat and began gathering his own empty plate and drink in his hands. “Usually just time when the boys watch TV or play video games together.” 

Damian looked down at his own plate of untouched fish. He had eaten all of his rice and vegetables, but the fish was something he simply couldn’t stomach. 

“Not a fan of fish?” Father asked, looking between him and the cod. 

“No. I find it disgusting.” 

“Hn. I guess we’re lucky it didn’t make its way to the floor this time around then.” 

Damian felt his cheeks burn hot at the reminder of his unfavorable behavior. “Yes, Father.” He stood from his chair and moved to follow his father out of the room, only to nearly run into his father’s back. Father stared at him. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

Brow furrowing in confusion, Damian looked back at the table, thinking he had left something valuable there by mistake. The only things he could see were the near empty dishes of cod, shrimp, vegetables, and rice in the middle of the table. Well, that, and his own plate and drink. 

His silence must have gone on too long because his father sighed impatiently. “Your cup and plate, Damian. Grab them and bring them to the kitchen. We’ll go to the living room and talk about some things after that, okay?”

“But, Father, that is what the butler is for,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. What was the point in having a butler if not to let him do all the cleaning? 

“Alfred is far more than just a butler,” Father said brusquely. “He’s a respected member of this family. And as a way to show him thanks for cooking our meals, we help him out by washing our own dishes. Understood?” 

Clenching his teeth at the absurdity of having to wash his own dishes, Damian nodded stiffly and walked back to the table to gather his plate and drink in his hands. This was ridiculous. Surely his mother would not have left him here if she had known he’d be subjected to servant labor. 

He would have smashed the plate on the floor in defiance if not for the fact that he knew his father would be furious with him, and Damian couldn’t have his father thinking badly of him. He needed to show his father that he was worthy of being his son. That he was a capable ninja that could do the Batman mantle justice in the future. That meant trying to behave in a way his father would appreciate.

Knowing that didn’t make picking up his dirty dishes any easier. He did it in angry silence, and by the time he turned around, he realized his father had already left the room. Damian huffed and hurried after him to the kitchen. 

His father was already washing off his dishes at the sink when Damian finally got there. Father was being closely watched by the butler, who was making some kind of dessert at the marble island in the middle of the room. Damian spotted the bag of chocolate chips on the island and assumed they must have been for cookies. 

The butler was still in the mixing batter stage of the baking process. The sleeves of his dress shirt were professionally rolled up to his elbows, most likely to keep them clean. He stopped his work to acknowledge Damian’s presence with a tight smile. Damian didn’t bother returning the forced gesture. 

Father placed the washed dishes in the dishwasher with a clack loud enough to make Pennyworth flinch. Father then turned around and looked down at the plates in Damian’s hands. He looked… well, Damian wasn’t exactly sure. He wanted his father to be proud of him for doing something he didn’t want to, but instead of getting a pleased smile or _anything_ , his father simply motioned for him to take his turn at the sink. 

Damian’s mood deflated even further. He wondered why his father was always displeased with him even as he did exactly as the man asked. He tossed his leftovers into the garbage with a loud thud and then moved to the sink to wash his dishes. He simply ran water over them as his father had done, and when the dishes looked clean enough, he placed them into the dishwasher.

“I appreciate your help, Master Damian,” Pennyworth said as soon as Damian turned away from the sink. “I’m making chocolate chip cookies that will be ready in an hour if you would like to have some.”

Damian’s mouth watered at the thought. “Only if I’m allowed first pick of the batch.” He wanted to choose the biggest cookies with the most chocolate chips. It would certainly make up for the atrocious fish he’d been given for dinner. 

“A tall order to fill in this household,” Pennyworth said, eyes twinkling in amusement. “If you come back when they’re done baking and help me remove them from the tray, I’ll allow you first pick. How does that sound?”

Damian mulled it over. He didn’t necessarily like the idea of doing even _more_ servant work, but what he liked even less was the idea of not getting the cookies he wanted. 

Finally making up his mind, he said, “Those are acceptable terms, Pennyworth.”

“Good.” Damian followed Pennyworth’s gaze over to where Father was now standing by the doorway, checking his watch. “I believe that will give you and Master Bruce enough time for a chat.” 

Damian nodded and hurried to follow his father’s quickly retreating footsteps into the hallway. There was no need to try to walk stealthily since the hallways in this section of the house had thick decorative rugs running down the middle of them. The rugs swallowed any sounds their feet would have made. Maybe that was why the rugs had been left untouched during multiple other remodeling projects the manor had obviously been through. The mixture of old architecture and newer paint and furniture was one of the first things Damian had noticed about the house when he had first walked through it. 

The large living room they entered was definitely one of the rooms remodeled into a more modern style. There was a cream L shaped couch in the middle of the room covered in multiple decorative pillows and throw blankets. A large wooden coffee table was placed in front of it. Multiple coasters and remotes sat on top of the table in organized stacks and rows, meaning there had to be a TV somewhere. 

Sure enough, when Damian looked at the wall across from the couch, he spotted a large TV mounted on the wall. He wondered how often anyone actually used it. There were TVs in multiple rooms of the house, including the kitchen. He found it hard to believe anyone used this room regularly even though the vanilla-scented oil freshener made the room feel more lived in. The Mers, who were apparently watching TV together in the cave, definitely weren’t the ones using it. 

Father made space for them to sit on the couch by carelessly tossing the decorative pillows to the side. Damian plopped down on one of the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest. He barely waited for his father to settle down before getting right to business.

“Mother did not believe that the vigilantes you run around with are Mers,” he started off with. He watched closely as Father’s expression remained controlled and calculating, revealing nothing about his emotions. “She always thought they might be Atlanteans instead.”

It was possibly a large assumption to identify the Mers and the vigilantes his father worked with at night as the same people, but there was too much information matching up with what his mother had shared with him before his arrival here for him to think otherwise. 

When his mother had initially shown him pictures and videos of his father, she had also included images of three boys that went by Red Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing. From the information the League had collected over the years, his mother had learned that Nightwing had been active in his father’s life for at least eight years. He had gone by the name Robin up until a new child came into the picture and took the mantle from him. The second child was the current Red Hood, who had only been spotted four years ago. 

Oddly enough, Robin had disappeared for a short period of time, and instead of his return, a new child named Red Robin appeared. He was his father’s most recent partner, having only been spotted fighting crime alongside his father for roughly a year. 

Upon Damian’s arrival in Gotham, he had insisted on knowing who his father’s partners were. He had been itching to confront the vigilantes that worked with his father ever since he learned of their existence. Seeing pieces of their costumes, trophies, and weapons in the batcave only fueled his desire to fight the three boys for his rightful place at his father’s side. 

His request to meet his father’s partners had been shot down immediately. The reason his father had given him was that Damian wasn’t trusted enough to know the boy’s identities or locations yet. His father had even refused contact with the vigilantes this past week because of Damian’s presence, and he had made it seem like it would be a significant amount of time before he would be working with them again. That was why when his father had talked about introducing him to some people in the cave a few hours ago, Damian had not jumped to the conclusion that the people in question would be Batman’s partners. 

When Damian had been denied information about the vigilantes, he had used his week at the manor to try and find his own information about the three boys, only to come up with nothing. He saw no evidence of the boys having ever lived in the manor. There were no pictures of them on the walls. No bedrooms decorated with personalized items. No letters mailed to them in the post. Damian thought that meant the vigilantes must have had their own families to live with. 

For some time, his mother had thought the boys lived with his father at the manor, and that his father had guardianship over them. That was before his mother realized there were no legal documents to prove such claims, nor was there any legal evidence that they existed in general. That had led his mother to think that the boys were Atlanteans since Atlantis was located close to Gotham in the North Atlantic Ocean. 

Mers had not crossed his mother’s mind for obvious reasons. There had been no account of Mers being able to travel on land. Even his grandfather had not witnessed such a thing in all his years of living. Most of the Mers that were questioned by his grandfather revealed they had no interest in living on land. Many of them still had a fear of humans because of how their ancestors were hunted for sport prior to the establishment of the Mer Welfare Act.

Father regarded him with a look of hesitance that showed the mistrust in his eyes. Damian wished it didn’t affect him so much and tried to remind himself that they had barely known each other for a week. His mother told him that it had been difficult for his father to open up even around her. Damian wanted it to be different with him. He _needed_ it to be different with him. 

“I thought you weren’t going to allow me to meet them for a few weeks,” Damian said when his father continued to study him in that calculating way of his. The intense gaze made Damian want to shift out of nervousness. He clenched his hands around his thighs as a reminder not to fidget. 

“I wasn’t,” Father said. His eyes dropped down to Damian’s tense hands. Almost immediately, Father loosened his shoulders and leaned back more comfortably against the couch. He rested his right arm along the top of the couch and propped his head up with his hand. 

Seeing his father more relaxed made some of the tension leak from Damian’s own shoulders. He wondered if his father had done that on purpose or if the action was subconsciously done after deciding Damian was not currently a threat. Either way, Damian felt slightly more comfortable. He grabbed one of the throw pillows and hugged it to his chest to give his arms something to do. 

His father’s face seemed to soften slightly. “Dick didn’t think it would be good for the pod to stay away for as long as I had planned.” Father scrunched his brow as if contemplating how to express his thoughts. “Mers are… very social. It can be distressing for them to be away from their pod for a long period of time.”

“And you’re part of their pod?” Damian questioned, hugging the pillow just a little tighter. 

“Yes, so is Alfred.” 

“But, Father!” Damian shot forward, feeling something like anger and disbelief settle in his stomach. “They’re not your family! I am!”

“Damian…”

“How could you possibly be part of their pod? You’re not even the same species as them!” 

“Damian,” Father repeated sternly. The soft look he held morphed into one of disapproval. Damian hated it. “I’m not asking you to understand right now. I’m just telling you how it is.”

“Tt. So, what, the three freeloaders stay here most of the time? What about the rest of the pod? Surely they must be here frequently as well if they’re as socially dependent as you say.”

Father looked slightly confused. “There are no others. Dick, Jason, and Tim were orphans who made their own pod. They’re brothers.” Damian felt like he was being treated like a spooked animal when his father cautiously said, “And I’m their father.” 

The admission, while not a complete shock, still sent Damian reeling. Deep down, he had known this scenario was a possibility, and it was something he had feared would be true. The way his father tried to mediate between the Mers, the way he scolded them like they were children, and the way he made sure they did their own chores displayed a certain level of parental authority. It was something Damian vaguely recognized, but could not confirm for himself since he did not have much of his own experience with parental guidance and care. But now that it was spelled out for him, Damian could not deny that it was true.

The feeling of being replaced made Damian sick to his stomach. In his absence from his father’s life, his father had found suitable imposters to take Damian’s place. The Mers were currently living the life Damian had craved since he was a young child. They had his father’s love, his trust, and were already sharing in his legacy. What did Damian have?

Nothing. He had nothing. 

“I’m your blood son,” Damian said, aware that his voice sounded embarrassingly fragile. _Weak_ , he thought, _you’re weak. Father knows it. He saw it for himself when Todd dragged you under and nearly drowned you_. 

“Yes, you are,” Father said in that same cautious tone. He looked like he was contemplating moving closer to Damian, but instead, he gripped the back of the couch and pushed himself further into the cushions. Further away from Damian. “But even though we don’t share the same blood and aren’t the same species, I still think of Dick, Jason, and Tim as my sons. I’ve helped raise them since they were young.”

The pictures of two young Robins who were not much older than Damian was now flashed through his mind. 

“Dick was the first Robin,” Damian stated. He’d gathered as much based on his observation of the Mer’s behavior as well as how his Father continued to order Dick’s name first when mentioning the Mers. 

Father nodded. “Yes, he was the first.”

“Then why does he no longer have his human legs like Todd and Drake?”

“It’s a long story.” 

Father checked the watch on his wrist, an action that irritated Damian to no end. People were always checking the time when they were around him. His grandfather and his senseis did it often enough to make him feel like they were always waiting to get rid of him as soon as possible. He’d come to learn that if they weren’t training him in some skill or telling him valuable knowledge, they didn’t necessarily seem to care much for his presence. His mother was slightly better in that regard. _Not that it accounts for much_ , Damian thought with a sneer, _she was hardly around anyways_. 

He thought it might be different here. He had hoped his father would not only accept him as a worthy heir, but also as a son worth getting to know. With the way the week had gone so far, Damian didn’t see that happening anytime soon. Not with the way his father barely paid him any mind other than to make sure he wasn’t trying to escape or kill other people. 

But Damian was nothing if not persistent. He would continue to try and worm his way into his father’s good graces until his father found himself liking Damian’s company, especially over that of the Mers. If he had to follow his father’s rules—the ridiculous “no kill” rule in particular—to achieve the attention he desired, then so be it. 

“We’ll stick with the condensed version for now,” Father muttered, turning his attention back to Damian. “How much do you know about magic?” 

“I know enough.”

Father paused for a second, his eyes narrowing. Damian squeezed one of the tassels on the pillow between his fingers to keep himself from fidgeting under his father’s scrutinizing gaze. He’d come to learn that his father liked specifics. The more specific, the better. Damian was similar in that way and could relate to the annoying itching feeling of not knowing enough. Still, he didn’t feel compelled to explain himself further. 

“I’m sure you know there are very many powerful magic users then,” Father continued after a moment. Damian nodded. He knew of multiple magic users, including the woman his father worked with frequently. “There’s one in particular I contacted when Dick was younger. I asked him to make a spell or a charm that would alter Dick’s biology enough to allow him to live on land with me.”

Damian furrowed his brow in confusion. “For what reason?” 

“There were a few. Mainly because I became Dick’s guardian after his pod was murdered. It was too hard for me to keep an eye on him when I couldn’t be in the water with him all the time and when he could only be on land until his scales dried out. Dick’s decision to become Robin made it even more necessary.”

There were a lot of questions Damian had about the Mer’s story, but he knew his father did not want to take the time to answer them now. Perhaps Damian could get answers from the Mer himself if he ever got the chance to be alone with him.

“Tt. You obviously got what you wanted from the magic user,” Damian said. Dick, Todd, and Drake’s ability to fight on land was proof of that. “That still doesn’t explain why Dick doesn’t have legs now. Was the spell that was cast on him broken?”

“No,” Father said. He ran his hand through his hair and then scrunched up his face in disgust. Damian had no idea what his issue was until his father started wiping his hand against his pants while grumbling, “Forgot I put gel in.” 

Damian almost laughed at the way his father continued to press his sticky fingers together with a scowl on his face. It made him look like a child.

“Do you need to go wash your hands?” Damian smirked. 

“It’s fine,” Father sighed in a self-resigned sort of way. He carefully rested his hands on top of his thighs to keep them from touching anything. “And no, there was never a spell put on Dick. The magic user made very powerful charms for the boys to wear instead.” Father looked slightly annoyed when he said, “A charm which Dick _had_ up until about a month ago.”

Damian’s eyes widened as he instantly thought of the obsidian stone necklaces he had noticed Todd and Drake wearing when he saw them emerge from the water. At the time, he thought the necklaces were gifts from his father, and apparently they were, but more importantly, they were most likely the charms his father was talking about. 

“He lost it?” he asked distractedly. He was suddenly _very_ interested in going back downstairs to see if Dick was wearing the same necklace or not. 

“He gave it to an Atlantean friend of his during a mission gone wrong. His friend was captured and the charm was stolen from him.” 

“And what? There’s no chance of retrieving it?” 

“We’ll get it back as soon as we can locate the magic user. He’s the only one who can find it.”

“Tt. Wouldn’t it just be easier to cast a locator spell on it?”

“It wouldn’t work. There's a sort of… sentience to the charms. They teleport outside of our realm as a fail safe when they’re in the hands of people with ill intentions.”

“And where exactly would that be,” Damian scoffed, “hell?” 

“It’s a possibility,” Father said seriously, making Damian blink in surprise. “It either returned to the hellfire it was made in or it was transported to Merlin.”

 _Now_ his father was starting to speak of things beyond Damian’s understanding. Merlin was commonly mentioned in the magical literature that Damian had read during his studies with the League. What little information he knew about Merlin would have no chance of helping him comprehend Merlin’s involvement in the current situation. 

Hell was a subject his grandfather most likely would have studied thoroughly since he was so intent on never going there. It was something Damian would have asked the man about had his family not been on disagreeable terms with each other lately. 

Father glanced at his watch again. Damian tried—and failed—to stop himself from glaring. 

Father’s tone was apologetic when he said, “You know what? I need to get back to the cave to do some research before I go out tonight.”

As if on cue, the smell of freshly baked cookies suddenly wafted into the room. Damian’s mouth watered and his stomach let out a small rumble. Any irritation he felt towards his father was quickly dismissed as he thought about all the cookies he would eat. 

“That’s alright, Father,” he said as he stood up and carelessly threw the pillow back onto the couch. “I have cookies to attend to anyway.”

“Right.” Father followed his lead and stood up. He at least tried to put the pillows back into some semblance of order by grabbing the pillows between his wrists instead of with his sticky hands. 

Damian would have never bothered with such a thing. It wasn’t his job. 

“After you’ve helped Alfred and gotten your cookies, why don’t you come back down to the cave to meet Dick? He’s probably still watching TV on the projector with Jason and Tim.”

Damian pursed his lips. He still felt bitter about what had happened earlier and wasn’t all that keen about being near Todd again, but at the same time, he desperately wanted to see if Dick was wearing a necklace. 

“I’ll come as long as he doesn’t try to drown me,” Damian said after a moment. 

Father winced at the reminder and motioned for Damian to leave the room first. Damian happily complied and shot forward into the hall, intent on getting to the kitchen as fast as possible. 

“About that,” Father said loudly enough for his voice to rumble through the corridors. “In Mer culture, it’s common for younger Mers to respect and defer to older Mers. Since Jason is older than you, he felt disrespected by the way you behaved in front of him. That’s probably why he reacted the way he did.”

That certainly answered Damian’s question about the Mer’s hierarchy, which was apparently based on age. 

“Tt. I can’t help it if he’s oversensitive,” Damian dismissed with a wave of his hand. He came to an abrupt stop when he realized he almost walked right past the kitchen. His father stopped as well and regarded him with a wary look. 

“It’s just something to keep in mind when you’re talking to them. Especially to Jason. Tim probably won’t try to pull rank on you, and Dick definitely won’t.” 

Damian rolled his eyes as his father carried on towards the cave. If the Mers thought they could boss him around because he was the youngest, they were in for a rude awakening. He would show them he wasn’t at the bottom of the totem pole; that he wasn’t weaker than them or inferior to them in any way. The only question was _how_ exactly he would do that. 

The answer came to him faster than he expected. He was only halfway across the kitchen when an idea crossed his mind. It was so brilliant that he had to stop walking for a second because of the excited buzz in his chest that threatened to overwhelm him. 

_Oh yes_ , he thought as he visualized the necklaces around the Mer’s necks, _that will be good._

He knew his smile was a little too manic looking when he faced the butler and said, “Pennyworth, I’m ready to take them out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Damian "officially" meets Dick. 
> 
> Anyone got any guesses as to who the powerful magic user is who made the charms? I think I made it pretty obvious with the whole "hell" and "Merlin" thing. Well. If you don't read comics then I guess maybe it's not too obvious alsjdla, so sorry lmao. 
> 
> Oh, oh, oh and so I am definitely taking some things from canon and implementing them in here. For example, Bruce's speech to Damian about dishonoring his senseis is the canon conversation they had when Damian first arrived in the manor (so is Damian throwing food on the ground yada yada). 
> 
> Damian also wanting to prove that he's the best Robin by doing something to the other's Robins is also canon. So yeaaah, let's see how that goes, lads. 
> 
> And don't worry, you'll get a fuller explanation of the Mer's pasts and all that jazz. Bruce was just being Bruce and was trying not to give away toooo many details. Also, the dude had a schedule to keep to so like aljdsla. 
> 
> Also alsooo, I had a crisis trying to think if the term "mer" should be capitalized or not. And I guess it should so alksjdla whoops, I'll write it like "Mer" from now on. I'll go back and change that in chapter 1.


End file.
